Unit 13
by Emrid
Summary: AU: Detective Myka Bering works for a special police unit called Unit 13, dedicated to solving unusual crimes. She thinks she's happy with her life, until her and her partner, Pete Lattimer, run into a private investigator while on a case. Myka can't decide whether she hates the mysterious British woman, or is quickly falling head over heels.
1. Chapter 1

It was a warm, quiet day. A lazy afternoon sun let its rays playfully trickle in through the half-closed blinds, coming to a gentle rest on the beautiful, sleeping face below. The dust, twinkling like stars in the daylight, flittered excitedly with each measured and peaceful breath she took.

"Yo, Mykes, wake up!"

Myka jumped up and out of her chair, shocked awake by her partner and best friend, Pete. His face was smug as he watched her try to compose herself.

"I wasn't sleeping," she protested, quickly sitting back down, a frown settling itself firmly on her brow.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," he responded, the smug look turning into a full smirk.

"Really, Pete! I was just..."

"Resting?"

She sighed. There was no way she could talk her way out of this one.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Artie."

She sighed again.

"Thanks. What did you need?"

"Right..."

Pete had already forgotten what he had come into her office for.

"Um...oh yeah! Leena made cookies."

"You came in here to tell me about cookies?"

Pete beamed excitedly.

"They're triple chocolate chip!"

Myka couldn't help smiling at his childish fascination with baked goods.

"You know I don't eat sugar."

"Yeah, but you gotta at least try one. You know, for Leena. She worked really hard on them."

Myka looked down at her remarkably empty desk. She couldn't lie to herself any longer...She was bored. There hadn't been a case in over a week, and her brilliant mind couldn't deal with the lack of activity. A little slower this time, she got up.

"I guess...since she took the time to make them..."

Pete jumped in excitement, then dashed out of the door way. Myka followed him at a slower pace, shaking her head at the overgrown child she had come to love like the brother her father always wanted.

Myka Bering was organized. She was meticulous. She was sharp. She had the most acute eye for detail the police force had ever seen, which was precisely why they gave her the job. And Myka Bering had been a great cop, always a step ahead of everyone else. She was fiercely competitive. She was objective. She had an amazing talent for keeping her true feelings hidden. So when Chief Frederic had announced that she was assembling a special unit, Myka Bering was immediately promoted.

Officer Bering became Detective Bering.

With her came her partner, Pete Lattimer. The two of them had been friends since their college days, where Myka had been the quiet, bookish type, and Pete had been the party-crazy jock. If it hadn't been for her, he never would have graduated.

Their special detective unit, known simply as Unit 13, was comprised of the Detectives Bering and Lattimer, Captain Nielsen (whom everyone referred to as Artie), Officer Jinks, and their resident tech Claudia Donovan. Though not officially a part of the unit, Leena the secretary was very much a part of their team as well. Together, they worked on solving what could best be described as "unusual" crimes. Crimes that didn't make sense. Crimes that were not...natural. And they were pretty damn good at it too.

Myka Bering loved her job. Which was why she couldn't stand the peaceful lull that had settled over their station. She wanted nothing more than to work.

Myka Bering needed a case.

"So? What do you think?" Leena asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Myka swallowed, then smiled sweetly.

"They're amazing."

It wasn't a lie. The cookies really were fantastic. But the sugar made her jittery, especially now, with nothing to occupy her mind. Even so, she couldn't help herself as she reached for a second one.

"Guys guys guys!"

Pete, Myka and Leena turned around as Claudia burst into the kitchen.

"Wuth uph Crohd?" asked Pete, his mouth overflowing with cookies.

"Huh?"

"He said 'What's up Claud'," Myka piped in helpfully. After knowing him for eight years, she had become fluent in Pete's full-mouth language. It had come in handy quite a few times.

"Oh. Right. We got a ping!"

Ping was Claudia-speak for a case. Myka's face lit up.

"Some kid in Kansas," Claudia continued. "Started burning down all the crop fields and then went into a coma."

Myka rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall to Artie's office. Her half-eaten cookie lay abandoned on the kitchen counter, but soon found a suitable home in Pete's mouth. Leena rolled her eyes at him while Claudia grabbed a handful of cookies for herself.

The procedure was simple. Fly out to the crime scene, question all the witnesses, find out what the hell was happening, then arrest the perp. To Myka and Pete, it had become a routine. Pete liked to call it "Lag, Nag, and Gag".

"Lag because of the jet-lag, Nag 'cause we have to ask everyone questions, and Gag 'cause that's what we do when we catch the bastard," Pete had explained to Myka two months ago, when the phrase had caused much confusion.

It had since become their mantra.

This case, according to Artie, was going to be no different.

"Nothing too exciting," he told them from behind his cluttered desk (it made Myka cringe just looking at it). "Standard Lag, Nag, and Gag."

Myka flipped through her case file.

"It says here that the kid, Kenneth Drake, is from Kentucky?"

"Yes. No one's really sure what he was doing in Kansas. He has no relatives there, no friends, no connections at all."

"Maybe there was a girl," Pete chimed in, throwing out a very obvious wink. Artie and Myka stared at him, in awe that he had even made it through the police academy.

"Right. Well, off you go. The plane tickets are in the files."

The two detectives started towards the door.

"And Myka," Artie continued. She turned around to face him. "Good luck."

She chuckled at that, glancing back at Pete, who had already left the office and was trying to steal one of Claudia's cookies.

"Thanks," she replied, and left his office.


	2. Chapter 2

Myka Bering loved books. She loved the magical stories they contained. She loved the way they looked, stacked on shelves. She loved the way they felt in her hands. She even loved the way they smelled.

She had grown up surrounded by them. Her father owned a small book store in Colorado, and the family had lived neatly tucked away on the top floor. For most of her life, books had been her only friends. Growing up, Myka had been extremely shy and reclusive, watching from the shadows as her younger sister Tracy reveled in whatever spotlight she could find. Most popular girl in school. Head of the cheerleading squad. Youngest girl to date the quarterback. Prom queen. Daddy's little girl.

Myka Bering wasn't bitter. She had learned early on that there was no use for jealousy. She didn't want to change. She liked being invisible, with her endless books for company. She was perfectly content to be alone.

And then she met Pete. Pete the crazy. Pete the partier. Pete the football star. Pete the underachiever. He was everything Myka wasn't, and it didn't take them long to form an unbreakable bond.

Even with that bond, however, Myka still occasionally wished she could be alone with her books again. She had moments when she longed for a quiet, cozy corner, cuddled up with blankets and pillows, where she could escape everything by jumping into one of her favorite stories.

This was one of those moments.

"Mykes, Mykes, look over there," Pete was saying in a hushed yet excited tone, while he tugged annoyingly at her blazer. Myka was trying very hard to concentrate on the small scrap of paper she had found on the ground, two meters away from where the fire had started.

"Come on, Mykes. Look."

She let out a frustrated sigh, then turned around to look at where Pete was pointing.

"She's so hot!" Pete exclaimed once he saw that her eyes had found his point of interest. Myka frowned.

"Who is she?"

"I don't know, but I sure as hell wanna find out!"

Myka tried to ignore her partner's incessant sex-drive as they made their way to the other side of the crime scene, stepping gingerly over the ash-covered ground. When they reached the woman, she was crouching down, her fingers tracing a pattern over the scorched earth.

"What are you doing?" Myka asked in an accusatory tone. The woman looked up, smiled, then stood.

"Hello, there."

Her voice was rich and silky, floating gently on the breeze. Myka frowned; the woman had a strong British accent, and she could literally feel Pete's excitement rise ten notches.

"What are you doing here?" Myka asked again. "This is a police crime scene."

The woman pulled a card out of her pocket and handed it over.

"My name is Helena Wells. The lovely officer over there allowed me in."

Myka looked at the card and sighed.

_Helena G. Wells, PI_

"You're a private investigator?"

"That I am," Helena responded, a smile still planted firmly on her face. Myka handed back the card.

"Would you excuse us for a minute?" Myka said, turning back to Pete and dragging him a few feet away.

"Wow," said Pete, in a whisper that was clearly too loud. "She is smokin'!"

"Pete, focus!" Myka whispered back harshly.

"Yeah, yeah," he responded, still staring at the British woman.

"We need to get rid of her."

"What? Why?"

"Because this is our crime scene."

"But maybe she can help! It's not like we have any leads yet anyway."

"Pete, we just got here an hour ago."

"Yeah, but she probably knows what she's doing..."

"She's a PI. We're professionals."

"Come on, Mykes. Let's just talk to her. Maybe she knows something we don't."

Myka faltered a little. If this woman had some knowledge on the case, something they didn't know, sending her away would be counterintuitive. And Myka Bering didn't do counterintuitive.

"Artie would kill us."

"Artie doesn't have to know."

She didn't like this situation one bit. She didn't trust private investigators. All they did was fumble around and waste her time, getting in her way at any chance they got. And she hated going against Artie, or anyone with a higher rank than her, actually. Rules were there for a reason, after all.

But she might have valuable information.

Myka couldn't ignore that.

With a deep, highly frustrated sigh, Myka walked back over to Helena.

"Let's talk."

The diner they went to was tiny and empty, and reeked of burnt oil. Pete had discreetly tried to sit next to Helena, but Myka saw straight through his plan and expertly managed to put him in the back corner next to her in the booth.

An old, greasy-looking woman, with her hair in a hairnet, slowly approached their table.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, sounding like she wished she could be anywhere but there.

"I'll have a coffee with cream and tons of sugar, please," Pete said cheerfully.

"Some herbal tea would be lovely, thank you," Helena said sweetly.

"Coffee. Black," Myka said in a cold voice, not taking her eyes off the British woman sitting across from her. She should be at the crime scene right now. Investigating. Like she was supposed to.

The lady slunk away, back to her dirty dungeon behind the counter.

"Ms. Wells," Myka started, preparing to interrogate her.

"Please, call me Helena."

"Yeah, no. We need you to tell us everything you know about this case."

Pete gave her a quick little kick under the table.

"Of course. I would never withhold any information from the police."

The way she said it made Myka's skin crawl. Somehow, she knew that Helena was lying. She also had a sneaking suspicion that Helena wanted her to know that. It frustrated her to no end. And, much to Myka's annoyance, made her feel a little hot under her collar.

"Look, Wells,"

"Helena."

"Whatever. You're not a part of this team. You're not a professional. And you're not in any way welcome to help beyond telling us everything you know."

Helena's eyes twinkled. Her deep, dark, brown, beautiful eyes...Myka snapped herself out of it. For some reason, the more worked up Myka got, the more at ease Helena looked. It was beginning to drive her a little crazy.

Myka was about to do something she'd later regret, like tell this insolent foreigner to go crawl back into her mother's womb. Pete saw it on her face and quickly jumped in before she could completely lose it.

"Hey, Mykes, why don't you go check on the car?"

Myka turned her glare to him.

"What?"

"Go, you know, check...in case someone...stole it?"

Myka could clearly see through his attempt to get rid of her, and it was making her even more pissed off.

"No one stole our car, Pete, we're in the middle of no-"

"Detective Bering," Helena cut in, suddenly looking very serious. "I do not pretend to be anything that I am not. I have information on this case. Valuable information. And I am willing to offer you my services which, though not associated with the police, are highly professional. If you have a problem with my presence, I will give you the information and leave you in peace. But you strike me as a very intelligent woman, and as such you should know that my assistance on this case could prove very helpful."

Somehow, the intensity and honesty behind her statement calmed Myka down. The cheeky tone was gone, along with the playful twinkle in her eyes. The woman in front of her had transformed herself into someone who was a passionate professional.

Someone like Myka.

"Alright," Myka said after a few moments of thoughtful silence. "But only on a provisional basis. If you do anything I don't like-"

"I will be kicked to the curb," Helena finished, her cheekiness returning. Myka sighed. She seriously hoped she hadn't made a mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

They had been working on the case for two days when Pete got the phone call. The three of them were in one of the conference rooms at the local police station, going over all the evidence they had collected so far.

"So, H.G..." Pete began, trying to lean over the table in a sexy manner, but only ending up utterly embarrassing himself.

"Yes, Pete?"

"I was wondering...How do you feel about incredibly hot police detectives?"

Helena glanced down at Myka, who was trying hard to ignore the two of them and actually get some work done.

"They can certainly be...enticing."

Pete was about to respond when his ridiculous ringtone went off, causing Myka to roll her eyes, and Helena to frown in confusion.

"Yo, Pete-meyster here...Oh, hey mom...Yeah, me too...What is it?...Oh god...Is she ok?..."

Myka watched as his brow creased and his eyes got watery. She had only ever seen him cry once before, the night the two of them had decided not to study. The night they truly became friends. The night they drank a little too much. The night they both talked about their fathers. It had been messy, and painful, and full of tears.

Pete hung up and put the phone back in his pocket.

"What happened?" asked Myka, her voice tender and a bit apprehensive.

"It's my sister...She...She was in an accident...They don't know if she's gonna make it..."

Myka immediately got out of her chair and pulled him into a hug.

"You have to go see her," she said as she ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him.

"But, the case..."

"Forget about the case. Helena and I will take care of it."

"What about Artie?"

"Artie doesn't have to know."

She could feel Pete smile sadly against her shoulder as she quoted him. After a few minutes of hugging, Pete pulled away.

"I need to...I need to get a plane ticket."

Myka nodded understandingly, and he left the room in a daze. There was movement in her peripheral vision, and suddenly she remembered Helena.

"Sorry...about all that," she said, trying to focus back on the case, which was difficult. Pete meant the world to her, and seeing him hurt...She hated it.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because...I'm not really sure, actually."

Helena walked over to the detective and placed her hand gently on her arm.

"Maybe you should take a break."

"No. No, I should be working."

"Myka, it's perfectly all right. I can handle things until you're ready."

Myka shook her head sternly.

"No, you don't understand. I need to be working."

She sat back down and started going through the evidence again, hoping that the case would take her mind off everything else.

Myka Bering wasn't good at making new friends. Since she had spent most of her life trying her best to be invisible, becoming close to someone new was difficult to say the least.

Myka Bering was outwardly cold. She was harsh, and to the point. No-nonsense, just work. She didn't joke around, she didn't waste other people's time, she didn't try to be liked. Those who knew her well knew that she had an incredibly soft side, was very sensitive, and did in fact have fun. They knew she had a hilariously sarcastic sense of humor, and that on occasion, she had quite the dirty mind.

She didn't make good first impressions, but this didn't bother her. The way she saw it, all the people she wanted to impress already loved her. It was pointless branching out. And Myka Bering didn't do pointless.

Myka knew all this about herself. She wasn't phased by it. She didn't mind. She knew that she was often called the "stone-cold bitch" behind her back whenever she wasn't with her friends. But it was ok. Because it was kind of true.

Which was why Myka couldn't understand why Helena was being so nice to her.

"I heard that there is a fantastic little tea shop down the road, and I've been dying to try it out. Would you care to join me?"

The two women were studying forensic reports in the local crime lab. Pete had been gone for a day and they weren't making much headway in the case, which was starting to really bother Myka. She needed to solve this. Now.

"I'm more of a coffee person," she responded, trying to politely turn her down.

"I believe they serve coffee as well."

Myka sighed and looked up from the reports. Helena wasn't backing down, and for some reason, she didn't have the energy to say no.

"Sure, why not."

Helena beamed.

"Splendid! We have a reservation today at five o'clock."

Myka blinked, her green eyes reflecting the shock and puzzlement she felt at the other woman's statement.

"You made a reservation? But I only just now told you I'd go."

"Darling, I knew you would accept."

The way she said "darling" made Myka's stomach flutter, but she figured it was just the hunger she was feeling after not eating all day.

"How did you know?"

"Because no one ever declines an offer from me," the gorgeous Brit responded, giving her a wink. Myka frowned, shook her head, and went back to reading the reports. She didn't have time for this.

The tea shop was actually really nice. As much as Myka hated to admit it, it felt good to just relax for a couple of hours with a cup of delicious hot liquid, soft classical music playing in the background, and surprisingly good company.

"I do believe the book was infinitely better than the film."

"But isn't it always like that? I mean, books are always better."

"I completely agree. Growing up, I never bothered with the tele. Fine literature was always my best method of escape."

"Mine too! I actually grew up over a bookstore. I used to spend all my free time reading anything I could get my hands on."

"It would seem, Detective Bering, that we are not quite that different, you and I."

For the first time, Myka felt herself relaxing in front of this mysteriously charming woman. She smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, it would"

They both took a sip from their drinks.

"So, tell me a little about yourself," Helena continued, her eyes twinkling. Myka found herself getting lost in them before she snapped herself out of it. A bit too late, however, since Helena had noticed and was smirking mischievously.

"Um, well...there isn't really that much to tell."

"Nonsense. You are a fascinating woman."

"I am?"

"Absolutely."

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a sultry whisper.

"You intrigue me."

Myka felt the blood rushing to her face. Normally, she didn't blush this easily. Then again, normally people didn't speak to her like that. Helena's smile grew as she saw the effect her words were having on the beautiful woman sitting across from her. Leaning back in her chair, she decided it was time to impress her.

"Since you do not wish to divulge your life story, allow me. You were born and raised in a small town in Colorado, above your father's bookstore, Bering and Sons. You have one younger sister, Tracy, who was always the center of attention and quite often a trouble maker. You graduated high school with the highest honors, and attended university at Colorado State, not because you wanted to, but because your parents would not pay for you to go anywhere else. While at university, you met your best friend and partner, Pete, and together you enlisted into the police force upon graduating. Your meticulous eye for detail and your love of solving any puzzle put before you immediately caught the attention of your superiors. Eventually, a special unit was created to solve unusual crimes, and you were promoted."

Helena watched in amusement as Myka's face became white with shock.

"Have I gotten anything wrong?"

"How...How the hell do you know all that?"

"It's my job. And, as I previously stated, you intrigue me."

Myka just stared at her, her mouth slightly open, still trying to understand how this woman knew so much.

"I..." she couldn't find the words to respond, but in the end she didn't have to. Her phone buzzed on the table, and when she picked it up, there was a text waiting for her.

"We have to go," she said, suddenly feeling excitement rush through her whole body.

"What is it?"

"The boy, the one in the coma...He just woke up."

Myka Bering was very tall. She was thin, but not unhealthily so, with well-toned muscles that she kept in shape with routine work-outs. She was fast, she was stronger than many, and she had extremely keen senses.

Myka Bering was ridiculously clumsy. Probably due to her height and the length of her limbs, she was extremely uncoordinated. She could solve any logic puzzle, speak in over five different languages, and petrify anyone with one glance from her beautiful green eyes. But when it came to using her body instead of her mind...She was a total klutz.

This proved to be rather unfortunate when their formerly comatose prime suspect decided to make a run for it. Somehow, in the chase that lasted five minutes, Myka managed to knock down two nurses, three carts with food, and one computer station. Luckily for her and the case, Helena had come prepared.

From her inner coat pocket, the PI pulled out a gun-like tool, of which she quickly pulled the trigger. A hook attached by a cable shot out and lodged itself into the wall at the opposite end of the hallway, right in front of the boy's legs. He tripped and fell in a very graceless manner, and was quickly apprehended by the hospital security guards.

Myka was impressed. And also curious. She had to admit, her interest was piqued.

Once the boy was strapped back onto his hospital bed (and Myka had profusely apologized for all the things she knocked over), they began their interrogation.

"So. Kenneth. What are you doing here?" Myka began, her arms folded across her chest, her posture suggesting supreme authority.

"I have no idea, I swear!"

"What do you mean, you have no idea? You burnt down seven crop fields. For no apparent reason. In a state you have absolutely no connection with."

"I don't know, ok? It was like...it was like I was in a dream. I kept doing all these bad things, but I didn't want to..."

Myka frowned and turned to Helena with a questioning look, at which point she decided to jump in.

"Ken - Do you mind if I call you Ken?"

The boy shook his head.

"Right then. Ken, do you remember when you first started feeling like you were in a dream?"

"About a week ago, after my dog died..."

"Have you felt anything else out of the ordinary? Perhaps physical pain of some sort?"

"Well, my knees kinda hurt from when you tripped me. That was a pretty good shot."

Helena smiled knowingly, her ego clearly growing by the second.

"It was, wasn't it?"

"What was that thing, by the way?" Myka asked, uncharacteristically interrupting the interrogation. Helena pulled the contraption out again and handed it to her so she could get a better look.

"I call it a Grappler. I invented it myself a few years back."

Myka examined it closely, tracing her fingers over the whole surface.

"Wow. You actually made this? By yourself?"

"Don't act so surprised. I am an inventor, after all."

"I thought you were a PI."

"That too."

The police detective looked up at the woman she knew much too little about. Helena shot her a winning smile, as if to taunt her with the fact that she was a complete mystery. A puzzle to be solved. A truth to uncover...Myka felt her skin tingling with the temptation to take on this new, very captivating case.

"Um...Do you need some privacy?" Ken asked, glancing at the two women who were staring intensely at each other. "Because if you let me out of these restraints, I can make that happen.."

They both turned to face him.

"Excuse me?" asked Myka, her eyes narrowing dangerously at the boy.

"I'm just saying, it looked like you guys were having a moment...Don't wanna get in between two lovely ladies and their-"

Ken was suddenly cut off by a pair of strong hands around his neck.

"Look, kid. If you don't shut up and start telling us what you know, I swear I'll-"

"Myka!" Helena exclaimed as she rushed to her side and grabbed her arm, pulling her back and away from their suffocating suspect.

"Myka, what was that all about?" Helena whispered shrilly, still in shock over what had just happened. The police detective didn't answer, instead choosing to storm out of the hospital room.

"I think your partner has some serious issues," Ken said, rubbing his neck gingerly as Helena continued to stare at the doorway Myka had just charged through.

It was a chilly day, crisp and wintery with a sharp breeze that stole the last remaining leaves from their precarious perches. Myka pulled her coat tighter around her as she sat on a lonely bench outside the hospital. She couldn't believe she had actually done that. She had assaulted a suspect. A suspect who, for all they knew, hadn't even been the one responsible for his crimes.

Myka had tried to strangle an innocent teenage boy.

Closing her eyes to keep the tears from falling, a familiar face popped into her mind. The reason why she had reacted that way. Sam...

It wasn't an excuse for her actions. It was in no way a justification. But it was an explanation, and one she hoped she wouldn't have to give.

"Myka..." came a familiar British accent, soft and worried.

"I...I don't want to talk about it."

"That's alright. You don't need to do anything you don't want to."

Myka opened her eyes and looked at the PI as she sat down next to her.

Helena's hair was jet black, darker that the midnight sky on a new moon. The way it fell so elegantly over her shoulders reminded Myka of silk sheets on hot summer days. Her eyes were a deeper brown than any she had seen before, making it almost impossible to tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. Her cheekbones stood out just enough to suggest a face of royal descent; beautiful in a way that could easily stop an army. Or someone's heart. And her lips...her lips were perfection. The subtle yet seductive line that marked the border between top and bottom made Myka's pulse quicken and her breath catch in her throat.

Myka looked away, down at the lifeless, grey, concrete sidewalk.

"Why don't you go back to the hotel? I will finish up here with the questions."

Myka didn't move. She couldn't. All of her strength was being used in an attempt to keep her tears from flowing.

"Myka..." Helena tried again, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Go get some rest."

Slowly, she nodded her head and then got up. She couldn't let her emotions get the better of her. She couldn't jeopardize the case just because a painful memory had managed to creep its way back into her heart. She had to go and clear her mind.

As Myka walked away, Helena stared after her. She wanted nothing more than to help her through whatever problem she was facing. But she knew that wouldn't do any good.

Sometimes you just need to be alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Myka Bering had only loved once. It had been a soft, gentle affair. He was strong and kind; she was brave and sincere. Together, they had happily floated through their daily routines, knowing little of pain and suffering. They had never fought, never said a cruel word to each other, never given each other anything but simple joy.

Sam.

The name itself was enough to send Myka over the edge into a pit of darkness and despair. Which was exactly where she found herself that night, tangled up with her blankets, on the unfamiliar hotel bed, her pillow and face drenched in tears.

Myka didn't know how long she'd been like that. When she had come back from the hospital and collapsed into the bed, it had still been light outside. Now she could hear crickets chirp in the chill night air that was floating in through her open window, but she didn't care. She couldn't bring herself to get up, to push back her feelings, to go back to being herself. But it was ok. Because she was alone. Completely alone, with no one to see her fall apart.

As far as the rest of the world knew, Myka Bering didn't do falling apart.

She was so absorbed in her misery that she didn't hear the key lock on her door click and the handle slowly turn.

"Myka?" came a quiet, hesitant voice from her now open doorway. Myka jumped up in surprise, but being tangled in her sheets, wound up falling off the bed with a loud thump.

"Myka! Are you alright?" Helena said, running over to the detective's side. Myka didn't know what she was doing in her room. Or how the hell she had unlocked her door. But even in her state of panic, she had a plan. A plan that involved yelling at this nosey, annoying, lock-picking Brit to get out.

Her plan, however, completely failed the second Helena reached out and pulled her into her arms.

Myka couldn't remember the last time she'd cried that hard. And it was more than just a simple cry. It was her very soul being weeped out in heaving sobs, her body trembling with hypothermia of the heart, her lungs shouting out for air as she silently screamed into the warm, comforting arms that held her close and slowly rocked her back and forth.

Helena didn't understand what was going on inside the woman she had come to adore. She didn't know the tragic back story. She didn't have a clue what could possibly make such a strong, independent, well put together woman completely crumble this way. But it didn't matter. All she knew was that Myka the brave, Myka the tough, Myka the cold, Myka the serious, emotionless, guarded statue, had become Myka the vulnerable. She couldn't offer helpful words, but she could hold her tight and be her anchor through the storm of emotions erupting from her suddenly frail and fragile form.

Myka could feel the afternoon on her face before she managed to slowly open her swollen eyes. She felt like crap and it took her a few sleepy moments to remember why.

And that was when she noticed the arm draped over her waist. Slowly, she turned onto her back and looked at the woman who had held her all through the night. She didn't know how she felt about it all. Never in her life had she been so raw in front of anyone. No one had ever seen her so weak before, and she felt like she should be afraid of the power this PI she barely knew had over her.

Instead, she felt comforted. There was finally someone she didn't have to hide from. That thought was so incredibly...liberating.

Helena awoke to shining green eyes staring at her; crazy curly hair tumbling over the well-shaped shoulders of the gorgeous woman propped up on her elbow, watching her wake up.

"Thank you," Myka said quietly once she was sure Helena was awake.

"For what?" she responded groggily, sleep still coating her voice. Myka simply smiled in return, then got up and walked into the bathroom.

When she came back out again, after having soaked her swollen face in cold, refreshing water, she found Helena sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You can use my bathroom, if you want," Myka said, wiping the water off her face. Her comment was met with an intense stare, so she attempted to continue in order to fill the silence.

"I'm not gonna force you to go to your room...You can take a shower too, if you want...and I guess you could borrow some clothes?...I think I have some spare change in my wallet..."

"Myka, darling, stop before you give away your whole inheritance."

Myka blushed. She was usually pretty good in awkward situations, but this emotional vulnerability was all new to her.

"Sorry, I just..."

"It's alright. You do not have to feel like you owe me anything."

Myka stared down at the floor.

"But...You were there. You were there for me, the way no one else has ever been before. And you don't even really know me."

Helena stood up and walked over to the taller woman, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

"I'd very much like to know you."

Their eyes met and Myka felt her lungs fail and her heart race.

"Would that be alright?" Helena continued. Myka couldn't speak. She knew that if she tried to form words, she'd just end up crying again, although she had no idea why. So instead, she slowly nodded her head and Helena smiled sweetly back at her.

It wasn't until they had left the hotel room, eaten lunch, worked on the case, and wandered into a park that Myka finally felt comfortable enough to tell Helena what had happened to make her break down the way she did.

They had just taken a short walk around the tiny park, when Myka, suddenly overcome with nostalgia and childlike wonder, ran over to the swing set. Helena smiled after her and then followed at a slower pace. The two swung in silence for a while, before the police detective managed to build up the courage to tell her story.

"His name was Sam," she started, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and continued. "He and I were partners, back when I first joined the force. We...we got along really well. Well enough that eventually, we fell in love."

There was silence as Myka tried to find the right words. Helena watched her intently, eyes filled with compassion and sorrow.

"We got a call one day. A robbery at a local bank. We were the first on the scene, and backup was five minutes away. I...I told him to wait...I told him we couldn't go in by ourselves. But..." Myka could feel hot tears roll down her cheeks. "We heard a baby crying inside. And a woman yelling. And..."

"Take your time," Helena said softly as her companion took some calming breaths. After a few moments, she straightened up a bit, her face turning cold and emotionless, her eyes glinting anger and pain.

"He was shot three times in the chest. Dead before backup even had a chance to get there."

Sometimes, a person grieving needs space. Space to cry, space to punch a wall, space to curse at God, space to find themselves again. And other times, they just need to be held.

Helena got off her swing, walked over to a now crying Myka, and pulled her into a tight embrace. They stood that way for a while, the police detective sobbing silently while the PI ran her fingers through her curls, quietly telling her that it would all be better soon. That it was ok to cry. That time heals all wounds. That she was, and always would be, there for her.

When Myka managed to pull herself together, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and chuckled sarcastically.

"God, I probably look hideous right now..."

"Darling, you look beautiful," Helena cut in softly, reaching out a hand to help wipe the tears away. Myka wanted to ask why she was being so nice. Why she even cared at all. She wanted to know what was going on in that brilliant mind, but she couldn't bring herself to ask because she was afraid of the answer.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket, completely derailing her train of thought. She pulled it out and answered it.

"Hello?...Oh my God, Pete, slow down!"


	5. Chapter 5

The two women sat side-by-side on the hotel bed in silence, as they listened to Pete's fantastical tale. Most of it was useless information about overly attractive women and dessert, but eventually they were able to make out the gist of what had happened.

Pete's sister, who was deaf, had gotten a text from her boss telling her to come to his office, urgently. It was one of her days off, and her hearing dog was at a doggy-daycare, getting groomed and pampered. She was going to tell her boss that, when her phone died. He computer had broken down the day before, so there was no way to contact him. Afraid of losing the job she had worked so hard to get, she had decided to just risk it and drive over to his office, with no way of hearing what was going on around her. The first intersection she tried to cross, her tiny sports car was rammed by an SUV, shooting her out the window and into a coma.

Luckily, they had gotten her to the hospital in time. Though she was battered and bruised, there was no permanent damage.

And Pete had tried to seduce her nurse by jamming his hand in a door.

Through his whole wild tale, he hadn't noticed that the two women were sitting much closer than normal. That Myka was staring at the floor the whole time, and Helena kept glancing over at her. He was completely oblivious to the obvious tension that had grown and blossomed while he was away, but that was all about to change.

By this point, Myka was extremely tired. She hadn't slept much the night before, and she was both physically and emotionally exhausted from the past two days.

"Pete," she said, getting up off the bed. "It's great to have you back, and I'm very happy to hear that your sister is ok...but I need some sleep. Now. Or I'm gonna crash."

Pete nodded understandingly, and she left his hotel room.

"So..." he started, turning back to face Helena. "You two been busy?"

"Yes...I suppose you could say that."

Pete squinted suspiciously at her. There was something...something strange. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew something weird was going on. Suddenly Helena looked him straight in the eye, an expression of resolve spread across her face.

"Pete."

"Yeah?"

"I have a secret."

"Ooh! I like secrets."

"It's something...something very important."

"I'm listening."

"I have to get something off my chest. And I need...I need help. I don't know what I should do..."

"We gonna get to the secret any time soon?"

"Right. But you cannot tell Myka."

"But..." Pete faltered. "I tell Mykes everything."

"Not this. She cannot know."

"...You said it was really important?"

"Yes. Extremely. And if I don't tell someone soon, and acquire some sound advice, I fear I might, as you Americans say, lose it."

"Ok...I guess...If it means that much..."

"Swear it."

Pete glanced back at his door, then turned to face Helena again.

"I swear."

"Right, then."

There was a moment of awkward silence as she tried to gather her thoughts and emotions.

"...Sometime today might be nice."

"I'm in love with Myka."

Pete's eyes widened in shock and surprise.

"Say what now?"

"She...she has burrowed her way into my heart, and I cannot seem pull her out."

"You...and Myka?"

"As far as I know, she does not reciprocate my feelings."

"How long was I gone for?"

"I don't know what to do."

Pete sighed and sat down on the bed next to Helena.

"Have you tried telling her how you feel?"

"No, certainly not!"

"Dude, no need to get all feisty. That's just the mature, adult way to deal with the situation."

Helena looked down at the floor in exasperation.

"Luckily for you," Pete continued, suddenly jumping off the bed in excitement, his face erupting into a giant smile. "I'm both childish, and immature!"

He hopped around the room for a few minutes, speaking to himself in hushed, excited tones, before turning back to Helena and throwing his arms wide.

"I'll be the straight best friend!"

"Pardon?"

"You know, like the sassy gay best friend, except, I'm straight. Hella sassy, of course, but only chicks for me, thankyouverymuch."

Helena looked incredibly confused.

"I'm gonna set you two up!"

"As in..."

"As in, listen to this, girl friend, because my seduction techniques are gonna blow. Your. Mind."

And so, with a lot of doubt, and a little bit of fear, Helena listened.

Myka Bering wasn't perfect. She was often very close, but like every other human, she had many flaws. She could be impatient, emotionally disconnected, distrusting, and very self-critical. And, like every other human, some days her flaws rose to the surface more than usual.

Unfortunately, the day after Pete came back was a particularly difficult struggle.

"Mykes, where'd you put the lab reports?"

"What?"

Pete looked over at her from behind the desk he had commandeered.

"The crime lab reports. From when I was gone. Where are they?"

Myka gave him a blank stare.

"Mykes...are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she replied, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her mind. At that moment, Helena walked in. The look on Myka's face changed from a frustrated frown to a shy smile. Pete tried his hardest to keep himself from bursting into a childish grin, but he was failing, which was quickly noticed by the PI. She shot him a warning glare and he immediately sobered up.

"I'm afraid I've had no luck with the family. They claimed that his behavior has been normal, other than a sudden onset of depression due to the death of his dog."

"His dog?" Pete asked, focusing back on the case.

"Yeah," Myka said, trying to get back into the swing of things. "He mentioned it during the interrogation. Said something about not being able to control his actions after it died."

"Do you think his connection with the dog was strong enough to cause some sort of mental trauma?" Helena contributed, trying to make sense of the oddity.

"It's possible...I'll give Dr. Calder a call, maybe she's seen something like this before."

"Dr. Calder?"

"She's helped our unit before with some cases," Pete clarified. Helena nodded in understanding. Myka took out her cell phone and dialed a number. While she was occupied, Pete motioned for Helena to come sit next to him.

"So, have you given it any thought?" he asked her in a hushed tone once she was close enough.

"I'm not sure if I can, Pete..."

"Come on. It'll work, I promise."

"You cannot know that for certain."

"I've been her best friend for eight years. I think I have a pretty good idea of how she works."

Helena sighed.

"What if...what if she doesn't..."

Pete put a comforting hand on her arm.

"Trust me. The feelings are there. You just have to make a move."

After a few moments of hesitation, she straightened up, a look of determination settling on her face.

"Alright. I'll do it."

Pete jumped up and did his ridiculous victory dance, making Helena roll her eyes. Myka gave them a disapproving glance from the other side of the room, where she was still talking to Dr. Calder.

"Ok...thanks again, Vanessa...I'll let you know how it turns out...You too."

Myka put her phone away and walked over to her partners.

"She said it's possible, but not likely. The emotional connection between Ken and his dog would've had to be at the same level as a connection with a lover or a parent."

"But it's still possible," Pete said.

"Yeah. But we need to see if we can find any other explanation. I'm not satisfied with this one."

"So, what next, boss?" Helena asked, smiling cheekily at Myka. The smile was returned, accompanied by an eye roll.

"We need to talk to him again. Pete, do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Good. I'd also really like to find out what happened between the time his dog died, and when he started the fires. I want to know every single thing he did, no matter how unimportant it may seem. Who he talked to, where he went, what he ate; everything."

"Sounds like a trip to Kentucky is on the menu," Pete reasoned.

"Helena and I will go. You stay here with the boy."

Pete smiled suggestively at the PI before throwing Myka a salute.

"You got it!"

"Alright, then. Let's get to it!" she concluded, heading towards the door.

Pete winked at Helena.

"Have fun, you two."

Helena glared at him one more time before following the tall detective out.

Helena had never been to Kentucky before, and walking out of the airport, she had to admit she was not particularly impressed. The plane ride had been fairly uneventful. Since they had purchased their tickets so late, they hadn't managed to get seats together. Which meant that Myka had spent most of the trip going back over the case file, and Helena had spent it nervously planning out her promise to Pete.

Now that they were together, on the ground, and in their rental car, Helena decided to start putting her plan into motion.

"I wonder if there is anything fun to do in Kentucky."

"Probably."

"If all goes well with this part of our investigation, perhaps we should explore."

"Explore?"

"Yes. When one is in new surroundings, it is usually in one's best interest to explore said surroundings."

Myka couldn't help chuckling.

"You talk funny."

"Pardon?" Helena responded, shooting the detective a slightly hurt and offended look.

"Sorry, I just...Your word choice is...cute."

"Cute?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's different than what I'm used to."

"And that makes it cute?"

"Actually, more like adorable."

Myka found herself laughing as the PI's expression turned to one of mortification.

"I resent that!"

"I'm sure you do. Doesn't make it any less true, though."

"If I wasn't as wonderfully civilized as I am, I do believe I would hit you right now."

This just made Myka laugh harder.

"Sure you would. Here," she said, extending her arm over to the other woman. "Give me your best shot."

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh, come on. You just said you want to. Here's your chance."

"No. I will not hit you."

"Why? I kinda deserve it."

"I would never hurt you, Myka."

The way she said it made the detective place her hand back on the wheel. There wasn't an ounce of humor in her tone, just pure sincerity that struck Myka deep in her heart.

"I...I know you wouldn't."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, passing by seemingly endless miles of nothing.

"I'm sorry," Myka finally said, glancing over at the beautiful woman in the passenger's seat.

"It's alright."

"I just-"

"You do not need to apologize, darling. I am, as they say, a big girl. My feelings are not in any way harmed. I meant what I said. Over the past week that we've known each other, I have come to...care for you. Very deeply. And should any harm come to you, by my hand or any other, I do believe I would be very emotional about it, and possibly turn slightly violent."

Myka could feel something bubbling up inside, something familiar and pleasant. Something she thought she'd never feel again. And it made her uncomfortable.

"Um...ditto."

The rest of the car ride was spent in awkward silence as both women struggled with their emotions.

It was late by the time they finished the necessary interviews with the locals. Both women were exhausted, but Helena wasn't ready to go to their hotel just yet.

"Myka," she began hesitantly as the taller woman unlocked the car.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering...if you'd like to go for a few drinks."

Myka thought the proposition over as she stepped into their rental. Though she was tired, she enjoyed Helena's company very much, and she knew that after the events of the past week, she could really use some alcohol.

"Sure, why not."

Helena beamed.

Myka Bering had always been a cautious drinker. She had seen what happens to people when they get intoxicated, the loss of control. It was something she simply couldn't bring herself to do. Her keen awareness, her mind's razor sharp edge, her impeccable skill for logic in the face of anything and everything...it was who she was. And she was never, under any circumstance, willing to lose herself.

Myka Bering had nursed Pete back from the deep end; she had labored tirelessly to bring her best friend out of the drunken pit he had built for himself. And when he officially became sober, took an oath, got a sponsor, started attending meetings, she promised herself that she would never tempt him in any way with alcohol.

Since the two detectives were practically joined at the hip, and her only other friends were the rest of her unit - who either felt the same way about drinking in front of Pete or were underage - she hadn't actually had a drink in months.

Myka Bering was certainly feeling the buzz.

The bar was nothing special. Maybe a little too dark. Maybe a little too cramped. But one couldn't expect more from a small town in the middle of nowhere. And the two women didn't need more. It was just enough to be together, away from the case.

The outing had started out a bit awkward. They still had a little trouble fumbling their way through pleasantries in casual settings, but once they realized they had no need for small talk, the night became very pleasant.

"So, you're telling me that your brother actually took credit for your ideas?"

"Yes, but it was not as if I didn't have a say in the matter."

"You were completely ok with him publishing your hypotheses under his name."

"Unfortunately, though we currently reside in the 21st century, the men of Cambridge are still as stuffy and patriarchal as ever. I knew that if I were to try and publish my findings, they would merely scoff at them and toss them out. It was more important for me to see my ideas out in the academia than my name."

"I would've never been able to do that."

"Yes, I'm sure you would have fought tooth and claw for your right to their respect."

Myka was expecting to see a cheeky smirk accompanying the PI's comment, but instead there was only a soft, appreciative smile. The detective felt her neck grow hot and was immediately thankful for the dim lighting that kept the red tint in her cheeks from becoming too apparent. Helena, however, could see very well in the dark.

As the night progressed and they happily moved from topic to topic, Myka couldn't help noticing that same smile, over and over again. It almost became a drinking game for her; whenever Helena would flash that completely disarming smile, Myka would take a long sip from her drink, trying to push away the blush and the butterflies exploding beneath her ribcage. Eventually, her surroundings became a little blurrier than she was used to, and she made herself push the drink away.

"Helena," she started, her tongue suddenly desiring to dispel the words that were clawing up the back of her throat. "I'm really glad...This is really...You make me feel...Thanks."

Helena arched her eyebrows at her companion's inability to form a complete thought.

"You are very welcome...I think."

"What I mean is...I'm happy we're getting to spend some time together. You know, away from work and without me sobbing."

There was that smile again. Myka instinctively reached for her glass but then forced her hand back, resting it neatly on top of the table beside her other one.

"As am I, Myka..."

They stared deeply into each other's eyes, and Myka wondered if those beautiful pools of black were actually images of the night sky, or maybe black holes, slowly sucking her in. And then she felt the light brush of fingertips against hers, the Brit's hand encircling her own, cautiously yet determinately entangling them together.

"Helena," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, a slight sliver of fear running through it.

"Yes, darling?"

"What..." suddenly the detective pulled her hand back. "What are you doing?"

"I thought-"

Myka stood up abruptly, feeling the sudden lack of blood to her head. She wasn't thinking clearly, and it was made perfectly obvious to her by the way her legs were suddenly mutinous, rebelliously trying to topple her over.

"I can't...I can't do this. I have to go," she said, stumbling toward the exit.

"Myka, wait!" Helena called after her, cursing under her breath as her unusually clumsy fingers fumbled with her wallet. When she was finally able to pull out the desired amount of cash, she got up and chased after the detective, who was already halfway to their rental.

"Myka!" she called again, catching up to her as the other woman opened the door to the driver's seat.

"What? What do you want from me?"

"You are in no state to drive."

There was a moment of hesitation, before the taller woman conceded and went around to the passenger's side. Once they were both in the car, Helena put the keys in the ignition, but didn't start the engine. They sat for a few long minutes, both feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"I...I am very sorry," Helena finally said, her voice barely audible above the blaring silence. "My actions were completely inappropriate and unprofessional."

She wanted to say more. She wanted to say that she had thought they had a connection, that there had been something there between them, that she had seen the looks Myka gave her, and the awkward yet adorable blushes. She wanted to shout that there was no way the feelings she felt weren't mutual, that her whole body was screaming at her that this was right; that Myka was right. But one look at her companion's face sent all her emotions into remission.

"Just take me home," the detective said, her voice somewhere between anger and defeat, and the way she somehow looked so small in the seat next to her broke Helena's heart. So the engine started and the lonely bar faded into nothing in the rearview mirror.

Myka Bering had trust issues. She had grown up in the shadow of her younger sister, had been emotionally abused by her father, and had watched as countless so-called friends eventually left her for more exciting and exuberant personalities. The people of Unit 13 had become her make-shift family, but it had taken a long time for her to lower her walls and let them in. Even now, though she trusted them with her life, she did not trust them with her emotions. Those were kept safely locked away in the depths of her being, hidden from the light of day and prying eyes.

Myka Bering was terribly lonely. The Great Wall of China she had built around her heart, stone by agonizing stone, had kept her safe for many years. But it was safety in solidarity, and though it hurt far less than the pain she was hiding from, this state of perpetual one-ness had made her numb. Numb to joy, numb to sadness, numb to life...numb to love. Or so she thought.

She had planned it all out. It had been a meticulous, lengthy process, filled with years of color coding and lists. But she had it all worked out. Who she was supposed to be. What she was supposed to do. Her career was her life, and anything outside of work was superfluous. A waste of time that did little more than remind her of all that she was missing. And she was content with her little arrangement. Not happy, but certainly content. A place for everything, and everything in its place, just as she liked it.

And then Helena had stepped into her life.

For the first time, Myka felt her control slipping. She could see her steadfast resolve melting between her aching fingers, and it scared her.

Myka Bering was terrified.

And as she sat on the edge of her bed, tracing the tips of her fingers where Helena had touched her, Myka knew she couldn't handle this. Usually she met challenges head on. She loved to prove everyone wrong. She loved to win. But this...this was too much. This wasn't a challenge, this was her heart. And this wasn't a rush of adrenaline, this was the humble beginnings of love.


End file.
